Bliss
by fyi.i.am.a.writer
Summary: Worries, so much worries overwhelm him. When was the last time Stiles ever felt relaxed, with nothing to worry about? After an argument with Derek goes over, Stiles has to go out. He loves Derek. Ironically, its raining and thundering and storming. Soon, he's knocking on Derek's door. Maybe, Stiles and Derek are possible after all.


**This is just a short story! Sterek of course. Be sure to check out my story Destruction Within. You know where to find it. Enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Stiles<strong>

Thunder rolled, cold bitter rain seared through Stiles's red hoodie. As he sat on a little abandoned swing, he recalled his last conversation with Derek. Well, it wasn't really a conversation as it was another argument. It wasn't his fault! Derek had been smothering him for that last two weeks! And with all the werewolf excitement with the others, he needed some fresh air. Fresh air in a bar, laced with jello shots, eye candy, and babes. He wasn't cheating, just watching from a far. Oh so just because he had a friendly chat with a very hot guy, he was "cheating." Yea right. Derek knew Stiles loved him, he knew for a few months that Stiles loved him. Oh, and guess what? They weren't even dating. So how in god's name can he "cheat?"

Stiles dropped his face in his hands, rubbing hot tears from his cheeks. Who was he kidding? Despite, not being in any relationship with Derek Hale, deep down he felt destroyed. His memories held on to that one look of betrayal in his "friend's" eyes. He remembered Derek, trying to grasp his sleeve as he began to walk for the door. Stiles remembered his own words, slipping past his lips.

_ "We weren't anything! Never have we been anything!" Stiles screamed, balling up his fists. "We will never ever in a million years be anything! I hate you!"_

A sob crawled up his throat. Damn, and he tried so hard to be quiet and to not cry. His chest ached. Aching. That's how he knew he fell for Derek. He remembered sitting at his computer trying to type up and essay for a teacher. They were learning to create strong details when writing a story or just a simple paragraph. She said, "There are a lot of things you kids know, but you know most about your own self and the things _you _love."

What did Stiles love? He never played a lot of video games ever since Scott got bitten. Scott? Damn, he loved Scott. Scott was his number one, stuck-to-like-glue, forever and ever best friend. They talked about everything from food, to girls, to sex. Hell, they went so far to go condom shopping together. I mean, what guy goes condom shopping with his best friend. Girls? Stiles loved girls. He loved them, so much. Girls. Lydia! Of course he loved Lydia! He had a crush on her since, when? He couldn't even remember. He smirked beginning to type on his lap top. And then he backspaced.

Talking about Lydia was sort of wrong, inappropriate he supposed. So what did he love? He loved making people smile, making them laughed. Stiles smirked. He absolutely loved annoying the hell out of people. It was his pure hobby, his best trait. He remembered every time his dad's face would crinkle with frustration. But who did he love to annoy the most? Scott? No, Scott got used to his humor and sometimes crude jokes. Derek? He loved annoying Derek. He got hurt sometimes, but getting that asshole riled up was like candy till sun down.

Derek. He wouldn't lie, Derek was as much as annoying to him as he was to Derek himself. His I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass-if-you-even-think-about-getting-me-pissed exterior was so extremely frustrating and annoying all rolled in a package of anger in one. Aching had bloomed in Stiles chest. He hadn't seen Derek in a month. I mean he had no reason to, not really. And he hadn't actually ran into him at all. Stiles logged out, pushing away from his desk and went to Derek's. Things just escalated from there.

Stiles wrapped his arms around his stomach. There was a time afterwards when Stiles and Derek actually had a real deep conversation about, well, everything. They talked about sports, clothes, favorite food, even fishing although he didn't really fish. Once and a while his dad went out but even then that was on a blue moon. They talked about his dad's job, his own dreams, about Derek's. Derek just wanted to die in peace from old age and not from a loss of blood. He wanted to live without the struggle of life and death, maybe find a girl and settle down and have pups. And all the while they talked, they were smiling, laughing at Stiles's corny jokes. Stiles somehow, through all that fell for Mr. Sourwolf.

And Derek knew! That fucker knew Stiles loved him! He was drunk, drunk of his ass, completely and utterly wasted he told him. He couldn't recall what exactly happened, but he did remember the pain in the ass headache and the awkward conversation in the morning. After that, Stiles disappeared. He didn't want to see Derek anymore. He would have to see him soon, he couldn't just ignore him. Actually, he saw him sooner than he wanted.

Thoughts were banging off his skull on night. Stress, worry, homework, Derek himself, Scott and his heartbreak. He clutched his chest, getting dizzy real quick. Panic attack. Where is his inhaler? It was just there on his night stand a minute ago. Stiles fell off his bed with a cry, pain exploding in his head. Who knew his carpet was this soft? And then he couldn't breathe. He was fighting, fighting to hold on, but darkness was settling fast. He heard a growl, a yell, and then silence.

Derek was holding him close, helping him to his prescribed inhaler that had been missing what felt like hours ago. And just as soon as he arrived, he left, leaving Stiles confused, lost, and thoughtless. Ironic, he had no thoughts but he had a hard time trying to get to sleep.

A crack of lightning shook Stiles from his little world of "fun." His shoes were soggy, sunk in mud. He sure was going to have fun cleaning off in the morning. Stiles dried his face of tears as best he could with a soaking sleeve, getting up and slipping once. Tonight was just not his night at all.

The streets were quiet for once, although a speeding car did soak him up a bit more than he originally was. He ought to hunt down that damn driver. He was already pissed and mad at the world, at himself, at Derek for scrambling every emotion in his body. He was cold, freezing really. His cell was dead, and most likely unusable with the hoodie soaked thing going on. No wonder he didn't hear any ringtone. It was not only dead, but broken.

The lights of Derek's new house were off, the house all in all asleep. He stumbled up the steps, kicking off his shoes because if and only if Derek actually forgave him and gave him a place to crash, he wouldn't track mud on his new carpets. But he couldn't bring himself to knock. That was the problem. Derek could just as easily slam the door in his face, and tell him to piss off. That would destroy Stiles. He sucked in a breath, his face falling as he knocked.

Derek swung open the door. Stiles swallowed, licking his lips. "I just want to apologize." He rasped. He felt Derek surge forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in.

"Where have you been?! I have been up all night worried that something happened to you!" Derek snapped. Anger was fueling him again. Who was he to worry? It's not like Stiles had any importance to him. Stiles pushed him hard.

"Why would you care?!" He spit. Why should he care?! They're not dating, Derek doesn't own him. Stiles glared daggers his so called, 'friend.' Anguish and pain was laced together in Derek's eyes. Why should he care, Stiles asked himself, guilt slowly building in his chest. So much guilt, and Stiles was ready to fall to his knees.

"Because I love you." Derek, muttered. "And I thought you did too. When you left, I assumed you no longer cared." There was bitterness in his voice, so much pain and emotional torment it astounded Stiles he said anything. Derek was never any good with words, or feelings.

"Kiss me." Stiles breathed, his arms itching to reach out to the man he had mistakenly fallen for. Should he do this, was this going to ruin everything, ruin the friendship they created? And then he no longer cared.

Derek pressed him against the door, his lips hard on his. Any sense flew out the building as he returned the kiss. He loved Derek, he hurt him, and he wasn't going to push him away anymore then he already he had.

He threaded his hands in Derek's hair, pulling gently and sucking on his bottom lip. Energy exploded in his chest. Derek's strong callused hands peeled Stiles red jacket from his shoulders, tugging his soaked shirt off along with it. Derek was hot, burning hot against his rain-chilled skin. Goose bumps erupted the surface of his pale arms. Derek hefted him up, his hands on the back of Stiles's thighs. For a moment Stiles was no where and everywhere. Was that what that was like? Having his hardening erection being joined by Derek's own clothed groin. Speaking of clothing, why was Derek not shirtless?

Stiles fisted the bottom of Derek green shirt, pulling hard. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist as the older male slipped his damp t-shirt off. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him close and burying his head in Stiles's neck as he carried him to his bed.

They were clinging to each other, desperation hitting the peaks. Stiles groaned. Derek had the most wonderful tongue. Course, he had nothing to compare to but he was sure Derek had much practise in the past. Stiles's head fell back. His jeans were uncomfortable, tight at this point.

"Stiles?" Derek breathed, fingers pulling on the front of said tight jeans. The younger male nodded, nipping Derek's shoulder. Clothing was discarded from Stiles's body. Derek's hands were all over Stile's skin. Stiles's body was no longer ice but a hot bag of horny flesh. Derek cupped Stiles face, eyes locking together. Derek rolled his hips, their dicks brushing. When did he get rid of his jeans and boxers? Electricity raced up his spine, his back arched and chest pressed against Derek's. Fuck, this was better than getting drunk of his ass.

Derek slid down his skinny form, peppering his neck, his nipples, sides, stomach, and hips with kisses. Stiles hissed, eyes rolling back as Derek licked the underside of his erection. Stiles gripped sheets between his bed, his body tensing with each stroke of Derek's tongue.

"Please!" Stiles gasped. His head slammed back into the pillows. How long was this pleasuring torture going to last. He wants it to end but he wants it to continue long and continuously too! Stiles's hips shot upwards as Derek finally sucked down his length. Suddenly, he was flying. The room disappeared and it was just him with Derek's head between his thighs.

Stiles went limp on the mattress, panting hard and sweat falling over his brow. He blushed. He did not last long at all. Was Derek going to tease him? Stiles's lips fell open, trying to control his thumping heart. Derek lifted Stiles knees up higher, sucking his finger and probing Stiles's backside. Stiles, gritted his teeth as Derek pushed in.

"Ow." He winced. Derek shushed him, keeping his hand still as he carefully crawled back up to face Stiles. He locked their lips, his tongue still salty from Stile's last orgasm, swirled around Stiles mouth. Damn, he was a good kisser.

"Hold on, okay?" Derek soothed. "Just wait." He trailed his lips down Stiles's neck, sucking hard on his pale skin. Stiles felt him move his finger slowly. Tears prickled in his eyes. This was not supposed to hurt. He knew there was a little pain, but wasn't there going to be any pleasure?

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, hiding his red face in his shoulder. Heat was building, he was getting aroused. Soon, intoxicating pleasure burst. Stiles cried out, trying to hold out longer then he did before. He whimpered as Derek pulled away. He was so close.

Derek shifted right on top of Stiles, and Stiles's eyes went wide with shock. Derek was huge. Not insanely, inhumanly huge, but big enough that Stiles worried. He swallowed.

"We don't have to do this." Derek whispered in Stiles ear. The younger male shook his head.

"Do it. Please?" The older male coated his length with saliva. So this was it? He was going to have V-Card taken by the person he least expected. Derek Hale was going to fuck him.

His head fell pack, his teeth gritted hard together, his body wrung up tighter than ever before. Stiles lost a sense of everything around him, and it was just him and Derek together in pain and ecstasy. So much agony below his waist, yet so much lust and ecstasy and pleasure and he didn't want it to stop. Shades of purple imploded behind his eyes, stars sparking in his euphoria high.

"Stiles!" He heard but he was so numb to the world and the sounds. He didn't care about anything. He didn't care about Scott or his ex-crush Lydia. It was just him and Derek on cloud nine. Favorite colors didn't matter, birthdays or holidays didn't matter, graduating high school didn't matter, nothing mattered as he cried out. And for a moment, he had no worries. Only bliss.

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><p><strong>*Moment of silence* I am internally screaming and fangirling. This ended so well! I am so proud of myself! There are, no words for how much I feel for this story right now. I think I am emotionally attached to this story, its inhuman. I have managed to write something, and just feel <strong>_**bliss. **_


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